


Daniel's Chimera

by ivanolix



Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Canon - TV, Episode Related, Gen, PTSD, Recovery, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-19
Updated: 2008-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-08 23:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanolix/pseuds/ivanolix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Daniel just wishes that one person he comes in contact with would turn out well in the end. What happened to Sarah after Chimera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daniel's Chimera

**Author's Note:**

> The episode Chimera is obviously titled to refer to Sam's illusion of having a normal life someday and also to Osiris' impossible goal of finding the location of Atlantis in Daniel's mind. It's a good word, and one that suits this story as well.

"I'll get you through this," he promised, giving her the soft, undemanding comfort that screamed Daniel to anyone watching, and that melted the heart of every SGC member. And yet Daniel had never given it to Sarah before today—his witty strong archaeology partner who never showed a vulnerability until the day she left him, and he realized how his selfishness had caused her inner distress. She had always been the recipient of his affection, but now his embrace was meant to hold the broken pieces of her soul together until he could find a way to fix it.

Daniel believed that he could. The Tok'ra had warned him quietly in their dark way that former Goa'uld hosts almost never fully recovered. Some of them disappeared from all contact and even the Tok'ra did not know their final fate, and many more found that they could not live again on their homeworld. The Tok'ra had offered a safeworld for Sarah, where she might live with those who would never judge or look down on her, those who knew the torment of helplessness like no other could. But Sarah had silently shaken her head at the option, and no more was spoken of it. Daniel was proud of her strength, but he feared that stubbornness would lead to emotional disaster.

The IOA had questioned her for information about the Goa'uld, but she had not been able to give much more than they already knew, and to everyone's relief they soon let her be. But that did not bring ease to her existence—she could not bear the sight of Sam, Janet, or Jack, having only seen them as host to Osiris. The military gear of SGC personnel would never have made Sarah comfortable, but after seeing it worn by her helpless victims, even all her resolve could not hide the torment she felt upon seeing it now. Daniel was her only anchor, the only one who did not remind her of screams, tears, warm blood, seared flesh—and the horrible power that had coursed through her hands. He was the only one who made her believe that somewhere deep down she was still Sarah Gardner, archaeologist.

She thought he didn't know that she used the spare card that opened his quarters and his lab when he was offworld, curling up on his bed with some small artifact or book to drink in the scent of dust and clay and Abydonian incense and Daniel that drowned out the rest of the world. She would have hated that he knew, hated that she wasn't as strong as she wanted to appear, hated that he knew exactly how strong she was and felt no disdain or shame. So he slept in his lab when SG-1 came home early, giving her time to sneak out of his room, leaving it as she found it.

They only spoke of archaeology and history together, and as much as Daniel felt that she was in denial, he couldn't justify doing anything but giving her what she so desperately wanted. Her old life was forever gone, but he was not able to tell her in so many words; the new life she wanted might not be possible, but he couldn't bring himself to break the hopes she'd formed. Any conclusions she came to would come from her and her alone; he would only support.

After a few weeks she began to smile again. They were false smiles, but they were efforts that brought the first sign of hope to Daniel. A couple weeks later, and she asked to move offbase. She smiled as she told Daniel that she had made the request to General Hammond, assuring him that she felt ready to make the next step. Daniel knew she was not telling the full truth, but he trusted her. She hesitated to ask if he might send her information about the finds he made, and Daniel didn't tell her how many days of passionate speeches and stubborn insistence it took to get her request approved. False smiles and desperate eagerness for archaeological tasks might be enough to carry her to the next step of recovery, or so he thought.

But though for a while it seemed that things were looking up, soon she stopped sending her theories and comments back to Daniel whenever he sent her pictures of the latest artifact. When he called her, she spoke to him almost brightly, but she never called him or kept the conversation going after he had run out of things to talk about. And one day she disappeared. When she did not answer his phonecalls, he tentatively drove to her apartment to find her mail unchecked. As he gathered it up, he noticed a letter that he had not sent and saw her handwriting on the envelope.

_"My dear Daniel,_

_I know why you don't seek relationships beyond the SGC. I know why you don't even bother to go home sometimes. And I don't want to leave you thinking that you failed—I don't wish for death, but I don't wish for life either. Not this life anyway, not normal life. I've volunteered for an anthropology mission, and I don't intend to return from where we're going. Nothing's wrong that you could fix, so don't worry too much. I know you will have to a little, but I'm no longer your responsibility. Live well, Daniel._

_Sarah_"

Daniel sat in the car with her letter for above an hour, then quietly returned to the SGC and reported the incident to General Hammond. There was a flurry of worry and concern, followed quickly by an understanding that this was expected, even if it had been far from everyone's best hope. Daniel looked over the letter often, until he was sure he could read between the lines. Sarah wasn't looking for an escape, she was looking for a rebirth among people who wouldn't expect her to shop, date, and have a "normal" job. People who wouldn't demand that she live like the last three years hadn't happened, people who would distrust her as a foreigner until they realized that she was embracing their culture and life, people who would never know that her old one had been cruelly snatched by fate, leaving her empty. People whose culture she had never seen subjected to the whims of false gods who came in a more coporeal form than myths, people who would let her simply live. And Daniel didn't begrudge her any of it.

He didn't hear from her, and when the Goa'uld were finally laid to dust, his first regret was that he could not even tell her. And then, as he packed for his second attempt to reach Atlantis, he checked his voicemail for what he thought would be the last time in a long while. And there, left at 3am:

"Don't pick up, Daniel. You were right. And I'm okay, and I will be."

Daniel felt a slight pang of sorrow, but vastly overshadowed by relief and satisfaction. He knew that he probably would never hear another word from Sarah, but he didn't care. It couldn't absolve him of his other failures, but the small amends he had made here gave him hope.

No one asked about Sarah, and he only ever told Sam about the call.

ooooooooo

Then they came—other realities' children, other universes' progeny, from worlds often only a single decision's change different from his own. One after one they had come through the Gate, and one after one they had been interviewed. He had been glad when he had not been forced to sit before a mirror of himself, but did not regret it when he was.

"So, I imagine you've gotten quite good at this by now," said the alternate version of himself with his own wry smile, only the jungle camouflage giving him distinction.

"Well, I've been called on to interrogate many times before," said Daniel, shrugging. "But yes, I've come up with a sort of pattern for these particular ones."

"Do you think this might happen in our reality?" asked jungle Daniel curiously. "I mean, Sam called it a freak accident for you, but who knows, right?"

"Who knows," acknowledged Daniel. "So, what makes you different? Your team is the same as ours, so no obvious differences. What's the personal situation around the base?"

Jungle Daniel sat back and took off his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Um, well, Sam's single again now that she broke off her engagement to Pete. Mitchell's trying to fit in, but I'm not sure he has a personal life beyond team movie nights. Teal'c might be keeping up with Ishta—doesn't really offer up that kind of information, though. And I'm with Sarah still."

Daniel had been nodding and taking notes, hmming recognizingly, until he coughed on the last one. "What?"

"You're not with Sarah in this reality?" asked jungle Daniel.

"You are in yours?" asked Daniel. "How?"

"Well, after the Goa'uld were defeated, she moved back to the SGC and joined the archaeology team, and—well, by the time she was ready to fully accept her new life, I was ready to fully move on from my old one with Sha're." Jungle Daniel paused, and looked to his interviewer. "You did have feelings for her in this reality, right?"

"Well I did, back before my obsession with Egyptology drove her away," said Daniel. "But when we removed Osiris, restarting any relationship we once had was kind of low on the priority list. I mean, especially after she moved off base—she barely wanted any contact with us."

"So your IOA didn't have as many restrictions on her movement," commented jungle Daniel. "Interesting."

Daniel could hardly treat it so lightly. "No, they let her go freely. Is that what it was? She ran off to some far off country here, and all I've heard from her since is that she's happy."

"Sarah told me once that she had thought about leaving many times," said jungle Daniel, putting his glasses back on and sitting up. "I'm sorry for you, and for her here, wherever she is."

"So you two are together again," said Daniel, a little wistfully. He didn't love Sarah anymore, but part of him continually longed to have a relationship that ended truly well for both parties.

"Yeah, we are," said jungle Daniel with a fond smile. "She did so well. It was her stubbornness, of course—she was always so strong-willed, and even Osiris couldn't do more than break her temporarily. It was amazing how just knowing the Goa'uld were no longer in power gave her the last bit she needed to thrive. She never even looked at the rest of SG-1 without cringing before, but after that she joined us on a team movie night. Of course, that was before we disbanded the team. She was going to come with me to Atlantis—that whole Ori thing was hard on her, but we had some pretty good laughs over my being stuck to Vala."

Daniel grunted, not sure whether he remembered that exasperating woman with more fondness or frustration.

"And now, well, things are going well. She makes sure I don't ever lose hope, and I make sure she is always a higher priority than work. Her strength and joy at finding life again keeps me going, and I hope my love can someday make up for all that she should have received but never did. And we keep busy."

"That's good—that's very good," said Daniel. There was a moment of silence, and then he let forth a self-conscious smile. "I don't know why I care, really. I mean, I know that every possibility exists in some reality, but, well, I can't really think of all you alternate teams as anything much different than what we are. Your rejoicings and mournings are no less than ours in my mind..."

Jungle Daniel nodded. They were close enough in character to not need to explain further. "So you can't contact Sarah at all?" he asked.

"No," said Daniel with a sigh, removing his own glasses. "If there's a ball anymore, it's in her court."

"She likes that," said jungle Daniel with an encouraging smile.

"Yeah, I know," said Daniel. "Well, I guess we should continue this interview," he added, dropping the conversation.

There were many more alternates that he talked to, with many interesting possibilities that sent his mind whirling, but the idea that he had ended up happy in some universe stuck with him. He would never have told anyone, except maybe Sam if they had ever gotten drunk together, but he had a dark inkling that there was something about him that cursed the people he came in contact with. All the death and unhappy endings, the only common piece being interaction with him—he knew in his head it was just coincidence, but in his heart he longed for an exception to the rule and feared that however hard he tried it would never come. It had in another reality, though—and that was a bare bit of comfort.

ooooooooo

Daniel blinked and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. He had just cleaned them, and yet he kept seeing smudges. Of course, it could have something to do with the fact that he was pulling an all-nighter, and he wasn't quite as young as he used to be. Jack had taught him and Sam to get at least two hours of sleep a night, and Mitchell and Vala had decided to take on the same role for them now that Jack wasn't around.

Daniel had felt quite satisfied when Vala had dozed off at 1am, her unspoken agenda of keeping Daniel from becoming too obsessed with his work not exciting enough when it came down to it. He liked her when she slept—not because she stopped talking and flirting, though if he was totally honest he didn't really appreciate her "helpful" comments, but because she couldn't keep up the mask in her dreams. It was a relief to see the weariness, the worry, and more and more frequently the peace, that bathed her face behind the drooping dark hair—it was a relief to know that the heart she showed for the team was more than an act.

He always had the ringer on his phone turned down after a certain hour in the evening, knowing that if anyone had something really important to tell him, they'd leave a message on his voicemail. And it did happen occasionally, that while he was working late he would jump at the sound of a human voice recording to his machine. He jumped even more tonight.

"Don't pick up Daniel," came that soft British accent. "I just wanted to—"

Daniel was well trained now to think quickly, and he thought through all the options in the split second before picking up the phone: "Sarah?"

"Daniel!" she answered in shock.

"No, wait, don't hang up!" he insisted. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have picked up, I just—"

"Daniel, it's three in the morning," she said, and that old dry tone was back in her voice, even if more subtle than before.

"It's not a habit," he said. Then, "God, Sarah, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I know it must still be disconcerting to think of this place. I just had to let you know. The Goa'uld didn't win—well, you know that, the world is still free—but it's better. They're gone. Forever. Well, there's a couple out there, but they're not a threat and they aren't enslaving anyone anymore."

There was silence. Daniel wanted to say something, ask if she was still there, but he had already pushed too far—he wasn't going to demand that she listen. It was a long silence, but Daniel didn't hang up.

"Truly?" came a quiet answer finally.

"Yes," said Daniel simply.

"Oh my god," she said, again quietly, but with a rush of emotion that Daniel could hear.

There was another silence.

"I can let you go now, if you want," said Daniel.

"No, not yet," said Sarah. "I—I need to tell you. I was in West Africa, living among a native tribe. I needed to find a place where I could belong that didn't expect too much of me."

"I know," said Daniel understandingly.

"I thought you might," she said. "And—Daniel, I got married."

"Ah—wow—con—congratulations," stumbled Daniel. "Sarah—I'm—you don't know how wonderful that is to hear. Congratulations."

"Yes, it is wonderful," she said, with a calm happiness that didn't equal her usual former enthusiasm, but was just as pleasant to hear. "And we're coming back to the United States. He wants to emigrate, and I think I'm ready to try again."

"What can I say?" said Daniel.

"Daniel, speechless?" chuckled Sarah.

"I guess I don't have to worry about you anymore," answered Daniel, a wry grin creeping across his face.

"No, you don't," said Sarah. "Someone else'll do that for me now."

There wasn't anything to say, really, so Daniel didn't, and the silence wasn't cold anymore.

"I wasn't going to tell you everything," she said quietly after a pause. "I wasn't going to tell you where we were going. It scared me to hear you pick up."

"I'm sorry," said Daniel, his smile fading a little to be replaced by concern.

"Don't be," she insisted. "It was just a bit of cowardice that I thought I was over. I am now. Is it all right if we come to see you? Do you always sleep—or not, apparently— at the SGC, or do you actually go home on weekends?"

"Is that a joke?" asked Daniel half-seriously. "Sarah, I'd be honored to see you again. Yeah, sure, come over anytime."

"Thanks Daniel," came the warm reply, and Daniel once again could read between the lines.

"No trouble," he answered softly, and she knew he meant it.

"Goodbye for now."

"Goodbye Sarah. And thanks—for hearing me."

"No trouble," she answered one last time, and then he heard the phone hang up.

Vala yawned and sat up. "Was that the phone?"

"Yeah," said Daniel, a hint of a smile still on his face.

"Do you mean to say there are other people with equally dull lives who have time to call you in the middle of the night? Daniel, it's three in the morning!"

"Actually, that's what she just said," Daniel came back smoothly.

"She?" queried Vala, blinking and rubbing her eyes. "Old girlfriend, Daniel? Do tell..."

He sighed, rolling his eyes under hooded eyelids. "Not really. She was once taken by Osiris—I hadn't heard from her in a long time, since she didn't really recover right after the Tok'ra removed the symbiote. She's married now."

"Good for her, I'm sure," said Vala, holding back another yawn. "Daniel, do all the women you know get taken by symbiotes?"

Daniel eyed her, put out of his composure but knowing she didn't mean it to be offensive.

"Oh sorry, I should know you Earthlings don't like to talk about feelings by now," she said, waving her hand in front of her as if to erase her mistake. "Doesn't matter anyway—you're still my Daniel."

He didn't bother eyeing her again or even responding, just let out a very audible sigh and turned back to his work.

"It's bedtime, Daniel," Vala said. "You got your important call, now go to sleep."

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew she was right. He was getting too old for this, though he wouldn't admit that to her. No, he'd just let her think she was forcing him to quit much earlier than he would have wished. The other Daniel had been right—it would be good for him to have something of higher priority than work. Not that Vala was like what Sarah was to the other Daniel, or would be, or—Daniel was rambling to himself, and Vala was tapping her foot.

"I'm going, I'm going," he insisted, closing his notebook and noting that she didn't leave the lab until he did. Exhaustion or not, he'd sleep better tonight. Alternate reality it wasn't, but he and Sarah turned out well anyway—just not together. And even with the heavy burden of the Ori on his shoulders, Daniel felt a little lightened by that fact.


End file.
